


Silent Night

by chelseagirl



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: ASJ Advent Calendar, Christmas Eve, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-08-29 06:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16738654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseagirl/pseuds/chelseagirl
Summary: Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry have been called "latter-day Robin Hoods" but they never gave back to the poor -- until one Christmas Eve, they decide to start a new tradition:  to follow in the steps of Robin Hood . . . or Saint Nicholas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've come here from the ASJ Advent Calendar looking for part 2, go ahead to chapter 2. (For more about the Advent Calendar, please see the end note.)
> 
> If you're not a reader of my ongoing series, chapter 1 is a complete story in and of itself. Chapter 2 is a sort of bonus track which links them together. Either way, enjoy!

Snow was falling softly all around, as they headed out for their Christmas Eve ride.

Jed Curry tried to remember when the tradition had begun, but he was pretty sure it was something that he and Hannibal Heyes had been doing for as long as they’d had horses to ride. Some Christmases had been spent in Devil’s Hole or places even colder and further north, where they’d bundled up and cut things short to spare the horses, while others had taken place in the sunnier climes, where the pair had sometimes sat out the winter.

The holidays had always been difficult for them, remembering everything they’d lost when they were still children. There was something about Christmas that put them in mind of family, not of a bunch of rowdy outlaws. The Devil’s Hole gang generally spent the evening getting drunk and singing naughty parodies of Christmas carols, though sometimes Preacher read the Christmas story aloud to them first. Otherwise, the gang members sunk into maudlin reminiscences about happier times that were never to come again. None of these were exactly what Curry or Heyes wanted. So the Christmas Eve ride had become an annual occurrence, where they could get away, appreciate the stark beauty of a December night, and look at the stars. Even afterwards, after the amnesty, their Christmas Eve tradition had continued.

On this particular Christmas, it was cold and snowy, but not so cold or snowy that the horses were uncomfortable. Curry’s old sheepskin jacket, still going strong after all these years, kept him warm, and he looked at Heyes, who seemed perfectly cozy as well, in his heaviest coat, with a woolen muffler wrapped snugly around his neck.

“Let’s do it first, and then head on out of town.”

“All right, Heyes,” his partner agreed.

They rode past the church, with its wooden steeple, painted white in New England style, and decorated with evergreens for the holiday. Lights were shining, and they could hear voices singing familiar hymns of the season.

“Be nice to go, sometime.” Curry sounded wistful.

“Sure would, Kid,” Heyes responded, using the old nickname, which only he used nowadays. “But we know they’ll be at service, so this is the best time to do it. To start our new tradition.”

A few months earlier, a friend in San Francisco had sent them a packet of old dime novels about themselves, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, the most successful outlaws the West had ever known. Heyes had been taken with the description of the pair as “latter-day Robin Hoods.” At the time, he’d laughed at the author’s somewhat less flattering follow-up, the mention that unlike the original outlaw of Sherwood Forest, they’d robbed from the rich and kept the money for themselves.

But as the holidays drew near, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. “Not sayin’ we did wrong, Kid. But now that things are different for us, maybe we should give something back.”

“Maybe so. Talk around town is that the Williams family’s been struggling since Tim’s accident.”

“Six kids and him unable to work, sure. Gotta be tough on ‘em.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Guess so, Kid.”

And so, when they rode out that night, their horses were laden with sacks full of gifts and food.

“You sure Tim’s not gonna be home? What with the snow and all, might be hard for him to get to church.”

“Reverend Moore told me they asked him special to read the Christmas lesson, on account of folks in town wanting to make him feel like he was cared for.”

Of course, when they reached the Williams house, it was locked up tight. It wasn’t so much that people in these parts weren’t trusting, but it was pretty isolated, and since the railroad ran right to town, strangers sometimes found their way there.

Heyes pulled his handy lockpick out from behind his hatband, where it had been tucked. “Gettin’ a bit out of practice with this, but,” he manipulated the metal tool in the lock, “nothin’ that doesn’t come straight back.” There was a satisfying sound, and the door fell open.

Quickly, the two former outlaws unloaded the sacks, placing gifts underneath the scrawny tree, and topping up the lightly-filled stockings with oranges, nuts, and small toys. They left baked goods on the table, the kind of thing that Bessie Williams no longer had time for, and a baked ham for the holiday dinner. Under the tree, there were stuffed animals, one for each child. There were games to play and books to read, for children and adults alike. For Tim, there were new woodworking tools. Even before his accident, he’d been known for his whittling, and since he’d been unable to work, he’d been supplementing his wife’s cleaning jobs by selling his carvings. For Bessie, there was a length of pretty dress fabric, with a note containing strict instructions that she was to use it for herself, by direct command of Saint Nicholas himself.

“What do you think, Heyes?” asked Curry, looking around.

“I think we’ve outdone ourselves, Kid.”

Their new Christmas tradition fulfilled, they left the Williams house, Heyes carefully snapping the lock shut behind him.

They mounted again, and turned their horses’ heads so they were riding out of town. The snow continued for awhile, the silent whiteness surrounding them and the sound of hooves muffled. Maybe it was because they had homes to go to, but instead of the nuisance it had sometimes been over the years, the snowfall was a pure delight. They found themselves laughing as they rode.

The snow tapered off, and a breeze came and drove the clouds away. The winter stars were brighter here, away from the lights of town. There was Orion, the Hunter, acknowledging them from the night sky. A wolf howled in the distance, but neither Curry nor Heyes felt any anxiety, though Curry’s horse snorted in response.

The whiteness of the snow-covered ground under the star-filled sky was almost eerie, strange and beautiful. They rode on for awhile longer, but finally, in such accord that they were of one mind even without speaking, the two men turned their horses back towards town.

They rode back to the house a different way, so that they didn’t pass the church and alert anyone to the fact that they’d been out riding. Let the Williams family be surprised by what awaited them.

And so they approached the big white house on the outskirts of town from the outside. Even at a distance, they could see through the windows that there were lights burning brightly, and the noises of conversation and laughter. As they drew nearer, they could hear the clinking of glasses, and through the windows, see the decorations. The porch was festooned with boughs of holly and fir, tied with red ribbons; they’d put them there themselves. They looked in through the window, at the Christmas tree, with its garlands and shiny glass ornaments, and at the people who surrounded it. Someone inside began to sing a favorite carol, and soon the others had joined in.

Jed Curry turned to his partner, his blue eyes shining. “Ever think about how lucky we are, Heyes? How easily this could’ve turned out different?”

“All the time, Kid. Now, let’s settle the horses in, and have ourselves a merry Christmas.”


	2. 'Twas the Night Before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This second part is a sort of a bonus track for folks who've read the Blue Sky stories, collected here on AO3 as the Ella and Alias Investigations series.

They stomped the snow off their boots as best they could, and went in. The house was brightly lit, with roaring fires in every room and the lovely smell of pine and fir. Jed Curry found himself locked in an embrace with his wife Sandy, who was expecting another child. She was as lovely as ever, and wearing a green velvet dress in honor of the holiday. He followed her gaze upward, to the mistletoe which hung overhead, and kissed her soundly.

Meanwhile, Heyes had found Ella, standing by the tree and looking a little overwhelmed. He slipped an arm around her waist, and she nestled into him.

“When I invited just close friends and family,” she said, “I forgot how many of them there were.”

They looked around the room together. “My sister’s expecting us at the ranch for dinner tomorrow, but tonight, it’s just us,” she continued.

Us consisted of the Curry children, Thaddeus, Joshua, and Sarah, as well as the Heyes’ own young daughter, Arabella. They were joined by several of the Chadwick children, offspring of Ella’s law partner Jeremy and his wife Melanie. Jeremy was chatting with Sandy’s father, Albert Raintree, and a couple of his close Blackfoot friends who’d come down from their tribal lands to spend the holiday with Sandy and her family. Melanie Chadwick was in the kitchen, with her eldest two daughters, and the Heyes’ ward Francesca Bird ferried food back and forth to the already overcrowded dining table. Meanwhile, Heyes’ son, Jonathan Russell, who’d grown close to his father and stepmother since they’d first learned of his existence several years earlier, chatted with Francesca’s elder brothers, Bobby and Benjy, who worked on a ranch outside of town. The elder brother had his sweetheart in tow, a pretty petite redhead who’d become Mrs. Bird in the spring. Sven Rasmussen and his wife Gloria, the best musicians in town, were at the piano, looking at sheet music and deciding what carols would come next. Kyle Murtry, sole representative of Devil’s Hole days, stood near the dining room fireplace with Rita, a former saloon girl who’d fallen for his good nature, particularly when he, no great scholar himself, had taken the time to teach her to read. (She made sure he never found out how quickly she’d surpassed him in that regard.)

“Caroline’s card arrived the other day. She and Penelope are going to come visit us this summer. The idea was that Franky’d go back with them to Connecticut, to finish up her studies at their academy.” Ella looked over at the group near the parlor fireplace, noting once again the way Jonathan’s eyes lit up when he saw Francesca and her equally entranced response, “But I think maybe Franky’s going to want to find a school near where Jonathan lives, don’t you?”

Heyes grinned. “I think you just might be right, and neither of ‘em could find a better match, now could they?”

Ella gave him a mischievous look. “Rumor has it Eliza Strahan would like to go, instead.”

Now her husband sputtered with laughter. “Your sister’s gonna love that, sending her daughter off to a school for girls who like to actually study.”

Ella shrugged. “Rosa was hoping for an Eastern finishing school, where Eliza’d learn all about manners and dancing and how to mispronounce French, but I think she’s come to terms with the fact that her eldest daughter takes more after me and our parents. The Nutmeg Academy is very prestigious, and now Rosa’s angling for her daughter to land a Yale man.”

Since Yale was, as far as Heyes knew, the name of a company that made locks, and since he was fairly certain that wasn’t what Ella meant, he just smiled. He was saved from having to reply by Gloria and Sven beginning a new series of carols. Most of the guests joined in, and the singing was spirited, if not always precisely on key from anyone except the Rasmussens, who did their best to keep those assembled from straying too far from the actual melodies.

When finally, having run through a fairly extensive repertoire, the guests began to drop off, Ella turned back to Heyes. “How did it go at the Williams’? Tim gave a beautiful reading at church.”

“In and out, no problem. Hope they enjoy their gifts as much as we enjoyed playin’ Robin Hood—or should I say Saint Nick?”

“Speaking of Saint Nick,” Ella began, and appropriately, at that moment the company hushed, as Sandy began an announcement.

“Family and friends, it’s wonderful to have so many of the people we love here with us tonight. Awhile back, when the children were smaller, we started a tradition—and it’s one we see no reason to ever stop. I’d like to ask our good friend and host Hannibal Heyes to do us the honors, once again.”

Heyes rolled his eyes, self-consciously, but then came forward, as Sandy handed him a small book. He squinted a little, and thought that maybe by next year he might need reading glasses. But with his resonant deep voice, he began. “’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house . . . “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much every surviving ongoing character from my ongoing ASJ stories are squeezed in here somehow, all with their happy endings. The couple of stories in the series which I’m working on at present take place earlier than this one, and whether the timeline eventually extends beyond this or not, I rather like taking leave of them all in this perfect moment, when everyone’s together and everything is possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Although the Teddy bear, per se, dates back to 1902, the Internet tells me that Steiff invented the stuffed animal in Germany in 1880.
> 
> This is part of the wonderful ASJ Advent Calendar for 2018, and if you haven’t found it, go and read right now! https://tuerchen.com/8bde674f Because this story was meant as a holiday gift, I left it so that the reader could decide just where the guys are, and who’s waiting for them back at the house: friends, wives, family, Wheat and Kyle, or whatever you’d like. For my part, of course, I imagine they’re in Blue Sky, Montana, and if you’re familiar with those stories and would like to read my conclusion, move on to Chapter 2. Otherwise, Chapter 1 is a complete story as it is, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it!
> 
> Whichever holidays you celebrate at this season of the year, may they be utterly delightful!
> 
> Thanks to Shade Nightwalker for organizing the fest, and Wichita Red for the photomanip that inspired this in the first place!


End file.
